Make Me Like You
by redtrouble
Summary: Lokixf!original starting before Thor and ending after Avengers. This is a love story, with hope and darkness and, of course, tricksters. : Rated M for sexual themes.
1. Loki's Innocence

**I.**

A young girl playing in the gardens of Asgard, no older than he. The garden girl—no, the flower girl. That was what he would call her. She had hair the color of sunshine, like most of his kind, that shined and bounced like silk in the light. She laughed and smiled whenever she walked—sometimes danced—among the flowers, and it made her blue eyes glisten. He never saw her in shoes; she was always barefoot. Sometimes, she climbed trees and took naps in the thick branches.

When the sun went down, she crept from her sleeping place and went home—wherever home was—but she would always return when the realm had gone to sleep. She would climb onto her favorite rock among the red calla lilies and she would stroke their soft petals. Her face, though serious, would glow with mystery and adoration. And then, rarely, she would smile a smile so beautiful, it would take his breath away.

Then she would fall asleep, cradled by the garden, and as the years went by… he imagined that she came to the garden every night to be cradled in his arms. It was his garden, after all.

It took two years before he found the opportunity to ditch his brother and, most of all, his courage to go out into the garden and meet her. He made sure his brother was busy and would not interrupt them; he did not want to share the flower girl, not with anyone—especially not Thor. Thor might steal her away, take her to his garden, and she might like it better there. But there were many friends and ladies in Thor's garden… There was only _her_ in his.

He drifted through the flowers, heart pounding nervously, and squinted in the sunlight. Sweat dripped off his brow. Perhaps today, she wouldn't come… She wouldn't come because she knew he was coming out to meet her. Perhaps today… she had grown tired of gardens and flowers.

Just as his heart had begun to ache and he had all but convinced himself to go back inside and pretend this had never happened, he saw a bouncing train of yellow hair and then a pair of clear, blue eyes turn in his direction.

He froze, stunned.

The girl smiled and walked over to him.

"I never knew anyone came to play here but me," she said. "Do you come here often?"

"Yes," he replied quietly. "Every day."

She smiled bashfully. "Me, too."

"What's… your name?" He swallowed hard, anxious for the answer to a question he'd yearned to ask.

"My name is Eris. What's yours?"

He swallowed again, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. He had scarcely heard her question past the gift of her name ringing in his ears. A second became eternity of terror mingled with admiration, and after three heartbeats—three eternities of gazing upon perfection—he told her his name.

"Loki," he said, "and this is my garden."

Eris frowned, her lovely brow dipping with concern.

"You're the prince. I'm sorry if I intruded…"

"Don't be," he said quickly. "It is no garden without a flower."

She laughed. "But you have hundreds of flowers here," she reminded him.

Did he? He'd forgotten what they looked like. He glanced around him and found their petals dull compared to her face. What were their names? He couldn't remember. If they weren't called Eris, he didn't want them. He wanted the most beautiful flower in all the realms in his garden or he didn't want it at all.

But… would it still be his garden? All of the best always went to his brother. Everything would be Thor's. He wouldn't lie that sometimes he was jealous. Sometimes. There were many obligations to pass to Thor that he wanted nothing to do with. Like the crown. He never wanted to be king. But then there were other things… father's affection, for instance… he desperately wished, for just one day, that father would speak to him with such a loving voice. It wasn't that he felt his father didn't love him; it was only very clear that while Odin loved his sons, he did not love them equally.

Loki tried not to let his emotions show on his face as he stared at her.

"Which is your favorite?" he asked, but he already knew the answer to that question.

"The red calla lilies," she told him.

Loki nodded and twisted his hand. Several strands of her hair knotted together and became a red calla lily that blossomed just above her left ear. She gasped and lifted her hand; her fingers gently touched the silky petals and a smile bloomed on her face. He smiled, too, at her joy.

"You can do magic," she breathed, awed.

"Only a few tricks, really," he admitted, quoting his brother's favorite term for Loki's talent.

"Not tricks," she corrected him. "Tricks are for trouble, and the only one that laughs is the trickster. This is something else."

"What else?"

"I don't know… But it makes people happy, not angry or sad."

"Are you happy?"

She nodded. "I am." She held out her hand. "Would you like to play together, Loki?"

The way she called his name caused his stomach to twirl anxiously. He wanted to take her hand, but it all felt too surreal. Surely, he was dreaming. Or he had imagined everything up until this point and, when he snapped out of it, he would be standing dumbly in front of his brother's newest friend. Had he just imaged the last few years? Did she even exist at all? Maybe he had made her up. Maybe she was just another trick of his that he had created out of his own jealousy. If he took her hand, would she disappear?

The trickster wouldn't be laughing then.

"You're too pretty for me," he whispered, almost convinced she was just an apparition.

She was the epitome of beauty in Asgard, and he was nothing more than a black sheep next to his beautiful brother. He loved his brother; Thor was his best friend. But sometimes he resented how lonely being with his best friend could make him feel.

"What?" she giggled. "What do you mean?"

"One day, others will see just how pretty you are, and they will want you to play in their gardens, and you'll go because they will be beautiful like you."

"I don't know…" she mumbled, uncertain. "I don't really see a difference, but just in case, make me like you."

"What?" he asked, frowning.

"Use your magic, and make me like you. Then, we won't have to worry about anyone bothering us, and we can play together all we want. Is that okay?"

Loki wasn't sure if this was real or if it was all just a figment of his magic, but he couldn't stop himself from living in the illusion. So he reached up and twisted his hand again. The petals of the lily melted into her hair and the red color slowly bled into every strand until her silky waterfall of hair was the color of her favorite flower. Those eyes, he thought, they had to change, too. But what color? He remembered the silver stem of the lily and how it sparkled in the moonlight. So her blue eyes became silver.

That's when Loki truly knew that he had in his garden the most beautiful flower in all of the realms.

**II.**

The torches on the wall danced and flickered across the old spines of countless volumes of booms in the great library of Asgard. She often spent her time here, reading and studying—but mostly waiting. Waiting for him. He always came. He was the only one that went looking for her there—the only one that came looking, for that matter. Not many aside from the great librarians found themselves in the archives. They were older now, and no longer played games in gardens. They haunted libraries, empty alleys, out-of-the-way verandas, and otherwise forgotten locations where they could be alone.

As she was bent over a book, legs and bare feet swinging idly beneath the table, he suddenly appeared behind her. He felt the tremor of surprise in her body as she flinched when his lips brushed her ear.

"I hate this part. It's so boring," he whispered, referring to the chapter of the book she had, until that moment, been engrossed in.

She twisted around at her waist, trying to hide her smile behind a scowl.

"Of course, you only like the exciting parts of a book," she recalled and he smiled. "Sometimes, the boring is necessary to set up the action," she explained as he went around and sat on the other side of the table.

"Yes, yes, I recall this speech before," he muttered, amused; he pulled his horned helmet off and set it in front of him. He was still in the green and silver armor required of him.

"Shouldn't you be at the banquet?" Eris asked, leaning over her book to peer at him. He smiled and leaned forward to whisper his reply.

"Yes, but it was just as boring as that part of the book you're reading, and you know how I handle that."

"You skip ahead," she laughed, and he shared her mirth.

"Yes, exactly." He lowered his gaze to the page beneath her fingers and then returned to her silver eyes. "Page two-hundred and thirty-four."

"Are you serious?" she asked, but she was already flipping ahead. "Another battle?"

"Not for awhile yet."

"No? This should be interesting for you to remember the number…"

Loki watched as she settled on the new paragraph and began reading. He wondered if he had been too forward to call it to her attention. The scene he referred to was a love scene, when the main characters finally confess their feelings for each other and make love deep in a magic forest. He had read it dozens of times, cast him as the hero and Eris as the heroine and the magic forest as their garden.

He felt anxious as he watched her smile fade and her cheeks begin to blush. He fought control over his breathing as he watched hers become unsteady. Her fingers curled nervously against the pages and he noticed her eyes flitted over the text so purposefully that he knew she was avoiding making eye contact. He swallowed hard and found the task difficult, and the seconds ticked by so slowly that he became lost in the quiet hum of the empty library.

Eris' brows suddenly shot up and her cheeks darkened. Finally, she looked up, and nervously laughed.

"Loki!" she hissed. "What is this?"

"What?" he gasped, feigning ignorance. "Did I send you to the wrong page?" He got up and came around to sit next to her. Of course he didn't give her the wrong page; the number was burned into his brain. But he checked, just to be closer to her. "Allfather, what are you reading, shameless woman. This isn't at all what I was talking about. No, it must have been forty-four, when the winebearer assassinates the king's brother—"

"Loki!" she exclaimed, lightly nudging his arm. "You're spoiling it."

"Did I?" He peered down at her. "But you skipped ahead…"

She flushed again and looked back at the pages. He leaned closer, examining the words between her hands, and then glanced at her face.

"Reading it again? Did you enjoy it that much?"

She snapped the book closed, embarrassed, and he laughed.

"Well, I can't help feeling it was a long time coming," she told him. "This is the third song of these heroes. There's been something between them for a long time now." Eris cleared her throat. "It was romantic. I'm not… mad that it finally happened."

"Not mad?" he echoed, then caught her gaze when she glanced at him. "That's a curious take on your feelings."

"All right, you know what? I'm happy. I've been waiting for him to tell her she loves him, he did, and it was romantic, and everything that happened between them was only natural. So, yes, I'm 'not mad', as you pointed out."

"Well," he began, "I'm glad we can be honest with each other."

The look she gave him after that was like a soft harpoon straight into his chest. It pierced him, hooked him, and drew him in. He didn't even realize he was moving until he heard her shaky breath and realized their faces were just inches apart.

The sudden laughter startled them apart, and Thor sauntered into the library with his usual four friends hanging behind by the door.

"We saw you go, and father wondered where you'd slipped off to, so we followed you to bring you back to the celebration," Thor explained, still laughing. "I didn't realize you were off to meet a lady." He shrugged. "Or that you even had one. Such secrets, brother." Thor plopped down at the table. "Why haven't we been introduced?"

"Brother, this is Eris. Eris, my brother, Thor," Loki said, agitated by the interruption. Of all the devils to be caught by, his brother was the worse. He would never live it down. Not to mention, he had managed to keep Eris a secret all this time. He had been careless out of anticipation to see her.

His jaw clenched as Thor lifted Eris' hand and gently kissed her knuckles.

"My lady," his brother murmured. "Has my brother told you just how beautiful you are? Your hair is as vibrant as the roses in full bloom, and your eyes glitter like droplets of moonlight."

"Your drunk," Loki snapped, no longer enjoying himself. He wanted nothing more than to take Eris and leave, but he could not do so without being followed, without being further pestered by his brother.

"Perhaps," Thor conceded. "It may impede my abilities, but not my sight."

"Just your brain…"

Thor laughed out loud, striking the table in revelry. He finally held his hands up in surrender and climbed off of the bench.

"All right, I see when I'm not wanted. But you should come back to the feast, brother. And bring Eris. I'm sure father would love to meet her."

"I'm sure," Loki replied.

Thor nodded to his brother and then bowed to Eris. "My lady. I hope you'll come. I would request a dance." And then he turned and left, dissolving into another fit of laughter once he reached his friends. They could be heard all the way down the hall, and then finally there was quiet.

Loki's gaze was transfixed on the table in front of him. He was so thoroughly embarrassed, he had no idea how to face her. Not only were they interrupted in a moment of potential intimacy, but his brother had flirted with her, charmed her, and drawn out Loki's jealousy with a simple kiss on her knuckles. Thor had made an ass of him.

Not to mention, his worst nightmare may yet come to pass: that Eris would meet Thor and, like every other woman in Asgard, fall for him.

Loki cleared his throat and stood up, having to get away, get some space. She was too close. She could probably read his every thought. He had to walk out his nerves, steady his breathing.

"I'm not sure I see the family resemblance," Eris began with a hint of amusement in her tone.

"I'm sorry you had to meet him like that," he told her. "He's a decent man, and my closest friend." The words, however true, were hard to choke out at that moment.

"Of course." She took a deep breath and exhaled it loudly, like she was purging something from her lungs. "Are you going to go back to the banquet like he said?"

"No," Loki scoffed, and glanced back at her—far enough away that she wouldn't be able to read the disappointment in his eyes. "You should go, if you want. No one will question your presence if Thor is at your side. Though I can't promise he'll be much of a dancer in his current state…"

"Loki…" Eris smiled shyly. "What makes you think I'm not already where I want to be?"

For a moment, he was taken aback. While it wasn't a confession, she had just told him that she preferred him over his brother. She had met Thor, had an opportunity to be one of the women at his side, and she had turned it down. Suddenly, everything was perfect again.

Loki smiled wide and came back to the table, though he did not sit down.

"Then, I guess, you wouldn't want to go out to the garden with me."

"I would like that," she told him, standing up.

"But you wanted to stay in the library."

"I never said I wanted to be in the library."

Eris smiled, hugged the book to her chest, and headed for the door. Loki followed after her, steps so light it was as if he were walking on clouds. All her words seemed to mean is that the one place she did want to be was with him.

They crossed the palace grounds and made their way to his garden. As they entered, they immediately noticed a few of the guests of Odin's banquet had found a bench under a willow to perch on and boisterously chat. Loki moved Eris back against the wall into the shadows, and idly waves two of his fingers. After a moment, the vines of the willow began to snake up the guests backs, hissing and slithering as they took the form of serpents. The guests cried out, jumped up, and fled as fast as they could back to the palace.

Loki laughed, even when Eris gently punched his arm.

"Trickster," she mumbled, but no matter how much she tried to sound disappointed, he could tell she was just as amused as he.

"What's wrong with a bit of fun?" he wanted to know as they crossed over to the stone bench and their now-vacant seats. They sat down, side by side, and she opened the book again.

"I don't think they were having any fun."

"Ah, but you did," he pointed out.

"Just so long as I'm never on the receiving end of your tricks…" she mumbled.

"I promise," he said seriously. "All of my good magic I save for you…"

He twisted his hand and a soft globe of light just bright enough to light her pages appeared above them. Her gaze darkened under that light, and the same harpoon struck him in his chest. He would have tried kissing her again, but after the first failed attempt, all of his courage to do so had fled. So instead, he scooted close so he could lean on her shoulder.

"Read to me?" he asked.

"All right, but its only the boring stuff. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he replied, and closed his eyes.

**III.**

The sun was bright in the sky as Thor and Loki headed back to the castle from another of their lessons. They joked about their finer moments and the not-so-fine-but-definitely-memorable moments of the day's lesson, trading laughter, insults, and even compliments.

As they climbed the steps, Loki patted his brother's back and nudged him inside.

"I'll see you later tonight," he told him. "I have things to do."

"Things to do," Thor echoed, "like shower. You smell like a horse. Now come on."

"Not half as bad as you," Loki replied with a grin. "Seriously, go on."

Thor studied him, narrowing his gaze until the light clicked on in his slow-witted brain.

"You're off to see your lady." Thor suddenly seemed very interested and turned away from the door. Loki shuffled anxiously, and shook his head.

"She is not my lady. She's my friend."

"Aye, and I'm king of the Jotunheim. Why do you deny it so? Does father know you've found a woman?"

"No, he doesn't know." Loki eyed Thor. "You didn't tell him?"

Thor laughed. "I was drunk; I barely remember meeting her. But, no, I didn't tell him. That's your job."

Loki stared at his brother a moment longer, considering his words, and then shook his head and found something else to look at.

"No, she and I are only friends."

"Who are you out to convince?" Thor wanted to know. "Me? Or you?"

Loki all but glared at the path they'd just taken, refusing to look at him.

"I have seen the way you look at her, brother," Thor continued, and then his tone became darker. "And I have seen the way she looks at you." Thor paused seriously. "She looks at you like the Midgardians look at us."

Loki finally gave his brother eye contact.

"She looks at you like a god, and sees no one else."

"And so I am," Loki replied quietly, voice hushed as his chest swelled internally with pride, "her personal god."

Thor only shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, but Loki understood now that his brother was jealous—even if it was only a little bit—that there was a woman, a beautiful woman who regarded him so highly… and no other.

Loki smiled, a wide and clever smile.

**IV.**

He saw her outside of his window the moment he stepped out of the bath. She was below in the garden, on her favorite rock, lying on her back with her face tilted to his room. She was looking for him, waiting for him to notice. A thrill went up his stomach and he quickly dressed in a thin, black tunic for a hot, summer night, matching pants, and ran his fingers back through his hair. He paused in front of a mirror to make sure he looked his best and then quickly went down to her.

As he came close, he realized she wore a simple, white dress tied to her body with a single black cord. She smiled and pushed herself up on her elbows, long, red hair gliding over her shoulders.

"Have you been waiting long?" he asked, leaning onto the rock and staring up into her silver eyes.

"Waiting?" she repeated curiously.

"You weren't waiting for me?"

"Was I?" She smiled. "Then what took you so long?"

He pressed closer and whispered, "I was in my bath. Should I have called you up?"

She blushed and shook her head.

"What are you doing here?" he wanted to know. She lifted a book from the other side of her and showed it to him. "Ah."

"I was wondering if you might create another light for me before you head to sleep. I just felt like being here but I can barely see the pages."

"I accept," he nodded, "if you'll read to me awhile."

"I… You know I can't refuse."

He grinned and leaned closer to her. Then suddenly he was beside her, leaning into her ear, and her whole body jumped, startled.

"I like that I can still surprise you," he whispered.

She swatted at his stomach and her playful slap rebounded off of his hard abdomen. He chuckled and laid back onto the rock. After a moment, she laid down beside him, opened up the book, and waited for him to create a light globe. He did, and she began.

Loki closed his eyes and listened to the words flowing out of her mouth. He didn't recognize them. She had found a book he hadn't read. How long had she scoured the library for something like that? He smiled to himself and listened, interested because it was her voice telling the story. He got lost in her voice, in the rise and fall of her tone, in every inflection. He almost didn't hear the words.

Until her voice became unsteady and the topic veered into something scandalous. It was a love scene worthy of rivaling the one he had had her read to herself some years ago. Her voice was shaky, hesitant. He could tell she wanted to read it as though it were normal, but it was impossible. He couldn't listen to it as though it weren't strange.

Oh, but to hear her uncertainty, her vulnerability, her shyness. To hear her, in that voice, talk of gentle touches and passion-filled kisses. To hear her say the words, 'I love you' even read from a book as they were…

Loki suddenly sat up and stared off into the distance. He realized, in that moment, he had waited too long and was now beyond his limit, beyond his control. He had been her friend, her confidant, and she had been his. He had secretly loved her since the day he met her.

"Loki?" he heard her anxious voice call out to him. "It's strange, isn't it?" She sat up next to him and closed the book. "I didn't know that sort of thing was in here. I'm sorry. Let's just skip ahead, all right?"

"No," he whispered, but perhaps only he heard. "No," he said again louder, this time sure of himself. He twisted around to look at her confused expression. "Keep reading."

Perplexed, she looked down at the text and, with trembling fingers, opened back up to the page. Then, in a timid voice, she continued. He reached out and gently touched her throat, felt the vibrations of her voice, adored the nervous flick of her eyes to his.

"Keep reading…" he whispered.

And every action she described, he made his touches a reward. He shifted behind her so that he could freely glide his fingers through her hair. He had always wanted to touch her hair this way. He wasn't sure why he never had the courage to do it before. He pulled her curtain of hair aside so that he could admire her neck and shoulder. As she read, he let his fingers stroke her skin with the lightest of touches.

Her breathing hitched, fluttering in her chest, but she pressed on through the scene. He bent down and placed a tender kiss right where her shoulder met her neck, and he heard her wince, but there was no pain or disgust in the sound she made.

"Loki…" It was half question, half begging. Begging for what? For him to stop? For more? For answers?

He lifted his lips to her ear. "Keep reading," he encouraged her.

And she did, never once protesting, although the sense of her words was lost as she struggled to maintain the steadiness of her breathing—a task she failed at—and to stifle any noises that his touches provoked. He no longer cared about the words; he wanted the noises. He told her to keep reading, but he wanted to steal her voice, redirect it.

And he did.

His fingertips lightly caressed her skin, explored her back, her neck, her shoulders, her arm, her waist. And he kissed her neck, let his tongue taste her flesh, and drifted across the space between her shoulder and her jaw. She cleared her throat, took long pauses, and rushed sentences to try to trap her winces in her throat.

Until he found the most sensitive place on her neck. As he kissed and licked, she suddenly cried out, tilting her head back in blatant pleasure. Loki lifted his head, noticed her trembling fingers barely grasping the book, how red her face was, how beautiful her expression had come to be. In all of their many years of knowing each other, he had never seen her make that face. Not once. And why? It was the most beautiful expression she'd ever made.

How many other sensitive places would he find? He was anxious to discover them all, every single one of her secrets.

Loki lifted his hand to her throat, turned her face in his direction with a gentle finger to her jaw. He placed his palm delicately over her cheek, lost himself in her silver eyes, the eyes that he gave her, that were only for him, that worshipped him as a god. He bent into her and pressed his lips to hers, overwhelmed by the softness, and a tremor of desire rocketed through his entire body.

When he leaned back enough to look into her eyes, he saw that they were misty, as though drunk.

"Should I keep reading, my lord?" she whispered. He shook his head.

"No."

Eris met his mouth again in a fervent kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, let her fingers tangle in his hair. He scooped her into his lap, held her curving form against him, and gently tugged the black cord until the knot came loose and her white dress slumped into the crook of her arms.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered hoarsely as he admired her blushing body. She winced when he pressed his lips to her chest and hungrily sought her skin.

"So are you," she replied breathily. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever met."

Loki paused. It couldn't be true, could it? But she had never lied to him. Suddenly, he no longer wanted any of the things his brother had. He no longer wanted the attention, the affection, the friends, the praise. He had them all from her. He didn't need multitudes of followers. He only needed her.

"Eris, you'll never leave me." It wasn't a question, but he still felt uncertain as he said it.

"Never."

"Tell me," he whispered as he leaned up to kiss along her neck. He felt her lips against his ear.

"Not if the nine realms collapsed would I care, not if you were with me. I want to be with you—I only want to be with you. I want to share in everything you love. Whatever it is, I will learn to love it, too. I can be all that you desire." She moaned, provoking him further. "Make me like you, Loki…"

"You _are_ everything I desire," he mumbled against her skin. He pulled her mouth down into his and kissed her hungrily. He pulled her dress away from her and felt her fingers tentatively curling into his tunic. "Don't worry, no one will see," he promised her between kisses. "I've made sure of it."

She lifted his shirt over his head and dropped it somewhere behind them. Her fingers on his bare back, gently clawing, felt incredibly good. Loki was likewise enthralled with her body; he couldn't stop touching her, exploring her—not with his hands or with his mouth. Her moans and soft winces were addicting, the best sounds his ears ever heard.

"Tell me you want me," he whispered.

"I want you," she replied.

The words burned hotly in his ears. He laid back, bringing her down with him. He jerked her dress away from her feet and dropped it on the ground, then she finished undressing him. They tangled together, naked, explorative, hungry. Each touch was a new sensation, overwhelming, and he couldn't stop himself from scouring her body for more of her sensitive places. He found two before he lost his control, two places that caused her to squirm, her nails to scrape the stone, her gasps and moans. And then, waiting became too painful.

He knelt over her, knees between her thighs and hands flat on the rock on either side of her head. He stared into her eyes, followed the trail of her tangled, silky hair, watched the rise and fall of her chest, outlined her curving body. And then his eyes lifted back to her face and lingered on her swollen lips, hungry for more of his kisses.

"I want you," she said again, and so he gave himself to her.

With one powerful thrust, he claimed her, and the pleasure was unlike anything he had ever experienced. But as he began to rock in and out, he noticed her face contorting with pain. He scooped her into his lap and sat back on his knees. That's when he saw the blood on their thighs.

"I've hurt you," he whispered, dismayed.

"No…" She shook her head.

He gently touched her face, brows dipped in concern. He caught the silver tears that fell from her eyes with his thumbs and swiped them away.

"I'll take the pain away," he promised her, but she shook her head again.

"Don't. I want all of the feelings you give me. The pleasure and the pain."

Loki's heart ached with love. He kissed her and held her close, hugging her, kissing her, whispering sweet words in her ear. And he made love to her until she writhed atop him in pleasure and he was so far beyond his limit that he couldn't hold back. They peaked with waves of ecstasy rippling through their bodies.

Eris lay gasping beside him, breath hot and sweat dampening her body. Loki wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, laid her head on his chest, and closed his eyes.

"Your body is so cold," she murmured, idly twitching with the aftereffects of their love-making still undulating through her.

"I don't know why, but I've always had a cooler temperature than most."

She snuggled closer to him. "It's nice…" He heard her open her mouth then close it again and waited patiently for her to find her courage. Finally, she spoke. "I have always wanted to touch you like this. To be held by you like this."

"Believe me, I have always wanted to," he told her with a smile. She pushed herself up onto her elbow to look him in the eyes.

"What made you?"

He pushed her hair out of her face and stroked her brow and cheek.

"I exhausted my self-control," he replied honestly.

"What took you so long?" she asked, and he laughed. She reached out and thoughtfully caressed his face.

"What are you thinking?" he prompted as he turned his head into her palm and kissed it.

"How perfect you are…" she answered, smiling. He frowned, wondering if he heard her right. She giggled. "You question yourself so often. Your brother may be the ideal Asgardian, but you do not live in his shadow. You are a warrior, powerful and quick, but you are also smart, and the most clever man I've ever known. Your brother is carved from stone. You are a living shadow…" She leaned down and gently kissed him, then whispered against his lips, "You are not lacking, Loki… your brother is."

He suddenly gripped her arms so tightly that her breath hitched in surprise.

"I love you," he told her.

"And I love you," she said.

Loki held her close, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were cuddled in his bed and she was sleeping soundly in his arms.


	2. Loki's Bride

**V.**

The throne room where Odin proudly sat with his wife, Frigga, standing behind him was void of the usual court that cluttered the space. Only Thor stood off to the side, his hands behind his back, waiting with a smile. Today was the day, Loki had decided, that he would present Eris to his family. He had sent her to be dressed then gone to meet his parents.

Now he waited anxiously for her to arrive. The memories of their relationship since their night of intimacy were nothing but perfect, and when he remembered their passion, a great warmth filled his cold body. There was some small part of him that wanted to thank his brother, Thor, for giving him the idea… perhaps, even, the courage to present her to father. He hadn't even considered things could become so real until his brother had planted the idea in his head.

The doors opened suddenly and Loki turned to watch her enter. Like a goddess born from light, her visage became apparent. The ivory gown she wore was tied to her with golden cords, and her thick, red hair was bound with tiny white flowers and silk rope. Those silver eyes sparkled when she met his gaze, and he thought his heart might stop.

Smiling, Loki went to her side, took her hand, and led her up to the throne. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that she was without shoes. He almost laughed out loud.

"Father, this is Eris," Loki announced.

Eris kneeled and bowed her head respectfully until she was commanded to rise. She lifted her head courageously in the following silence as she was appraised. Loki studied his father's expression but there was nothing to glimpse in his unreadable countenance. His mother was beaming happily, and she transferred her feelings to him with a simple nod of approval. Loki finally looked at Thor, and found his brother smiling.

As they traded gazes, he felt a sense of respect emanating from his brother. His eyes almost seemed to say, 'Well done, brother. You have chosen well.'

Finally, Odin spoke.

"You do not fear me, girl," he declared angrily. Loki frowned, suddenly worried by the shift in the atmosphere.

"I fear only Loki's absence," she replied confidently.

Loki was truly touched. Her use of the word absence had a profound meaning; essentially, the only thing she claimed to fear was his death. He wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, hold her close, but knew doing such at that time would be inappropriate.

Suddenly, Odin laughed and held out his hand.

"You are a unique woman, Eris," he chuckled.

Thor snorted. "I told you, you wouldn't get much out of this one. She sees only Loki."

"Fit for a bride, no?" Odin asked merrily. "I welcome you into my house, girl. Loki's bride…" He grumbled thoughtfully as though testing the words on his tongue, still smiling and studying her. He then looked at Loki. "Has it come to this already? You've become a wise boy to have chosen so well."

Loki bowed his head in thanks. Then, he reached out and took her hand, tugging her as close to him as she could get. He couldn't take his eyes off of her and how lovely she was. Even his family's jests and quips about how taken he was with her did not bother him. The rumors, for once, were true.

**VI.**

In spite of their previous relationship, Loki had been socially required to court Eris before they could be married. So she had been moved into the castle, in her own private chambers, and they had maintained a very proper public relationship. Of course, after having spent a night of passion together once already, it became impossible to hold back. So he had used his growing powers to conceal his presence, and he would often go to her.

That evening was one of those moments. The sun was setting and he had found her lounging on the balcony. The orange light mingled with her red hair, causing it to glow. There was a tangle of small flowers binding the silken strands, but flyaway threads graced her face. He chuckled quietly to himself. She hated how the servants constantly bound flowers in her hair. He had agreed it was unnecessary, if only to pacify her; truly, he thought it was cute, both the flowers and how she protested them.

Loki's green gaze started at her bare feet and climbed her legs, traced the shape of her thighs and her curvy waist beneath her dress. He admired the rise and fall of her ample breast and her elegant throat. Her face still took his breath away.

He dipped back into shadow and suddenly appeared beside her, stroking her arm and nuzzling his nose into her hair. She jumped at his touch and tilted her head back to look at him. He smiled.

"After all this time, I still surprise you?" he asked quietly, amused.

"You stopped surprising me a long time ago, Loki," she murmured. "But you still excite me…"

He sat down on the daybed and gently held her hands. They stared appreciatively at one another for a long while before he smiled again and kissed her knuckles.

"How did it go?" she finally asked. He chuckled.

"The guest list is astounding for the crowning of our new king," he told her. "Father couldn't be happier."

"How are you feeling about it?"

"You know how I feel… Thor is self-absorbed and arrogant." He frowned. "I fear what will happen to Asgard when he takes the throne."

"I have no doubt that he will one day make a good king," Eris said thoughtfully, "but you are right, tomorrow is not that day."

"Which is exactly why I've taken measures to prevent that from happening." He smiled coyly. "A bit of fun…"

"You're up to no good again, aren't you?" she asked with a smile. He returned it.

"Do you object?"

"Loki," she sighed, lifting his hand to her lips; she kissed his fingertips. "I always enjoy your fun."

"Then look forward to tomorrow, my lady." He glided his thumb across her lower lip.

"And Thor? Is he looking forward to tomorrow?"

"Thor," he scoffed, crawling on top of her. "You should see him, whipping his hammer about, flexing his muscles at every mirror and passerby."

"And your hammer," she whispered, and he felt her fingers glide over his groin; he shivered excitedly. "You aren't swinging it around prematurely, are you?"

"My lady, it's very inappropriate to handle my equipment while we're still courting…" he teased.

"I was only inspecting your weapon sets, to make sure you're ready for battle. Allfather knows Thor shines Mjolnir often enough."

"Mm," he grunted as he leaned in to kiss her. He stopped just before he made contact, lips hovering over hers. "And are you going to shine my hammer for me?"

"Isn't that the duty of every good wife?" she countered. "I need all the practice I can get."

"You need no practice," he whispered with a grin. "You have never left me unsatisfied." He gently kissed her. "For you, my lady, I'll always be 'ready for battle'. Thor can do whatever he wants with his hammer, and I will do you with mine."

Eris leaned up, her lips brushing along his cheek, and whispered in his ear.

"You shouldn't be too hard on your brother… After all, he could never beat you in _that_ contest."

Loki felt the heat rush into his cheeks as she grinned and laid back down.

"Listen to you," he murmured, still embarrassed but his ego was swelling. "That shameless talk…"

Loki gripped her waist and reversed their positions so that she straddled his hips. Her laughter was like music. The setting sun was almost below the farthest peaks, casting her in burnt orange shadow. Oh, how he admired her beauty, her exoticism. He created several globes of light that hovered around them, casting her in all sorts of shades of orange and yellow—a trick to preserve this moment as the sun set beyond the ridges and the sky darkened almost completely.

Eris smiled and held out her hand. Suddenly, there was a globe of light in her palm. He frowned, sat up, and gently cupped her hand with his.

"You can do magic…" he breathed, surprised.

"Only a few tricks," she told him.

"When?"

"A few months ago. I don't know why, but one day… it just happened. I felt the energy in my fingertips. And I was able to do this."

Loki reached out and placed his palm on her cheek, studying her silver eyes and looking beyond them, into her, into the fabric of her being. He could see the change.

"What is it?' she asked, reading his expression.

"Somehow, my lasting magic on you has given you part of my gift." He reached up to stroke her hair. "Amazing…"

"I did ask you to make me like you."

"You did, but…" he held her waist tightly and pulled her down to his lips, "I like you the way you are."

As they kissed and disrobed, Loki masked their presence from any watchful eyes. The next day, Thor's reign would be delayed, and following that, Eris and he would be married. Eris had always said that if Thor met a woman, he might grow up. Or, if he had a responsibility greater than himself—say that of a child—he would mature. The child, he had come to realize, would be his and Eris' child; and once he got the idea in his head, it was difficult to get it out.

Loki held her tight as they made love and, in the back of his mind, longed for the day when she would bear him a son. Two sons, he decided. Two sons, like he and Thor. Brothers that would love each other, support each other, fight back-to-back, and live side-by-side. And he would love them equally… He would show his father what it meant to love one's sons equally.

He would be a good father. And they would have a wonderful family.

"I love you," he murmured between kisses, breathless with pleasure.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, "more than anything… I love you."

**VII.**

"Loki!" Eris screamed and ran towards him.

He held up his hand to stop her and she did, but the pleading in her expression called out to him. He cast his gaze away, afraid to look at her, afraid to face her. What would he say? His 'fun' to delay his brother's rule had incited Thor's arrogance, put him and his friends in mortal danger, and then gotten him banished.

Through it all, he had learned the truth about his heritage, about his father's nepotism. In the throes of anguish, his father had collapsed, stealing any relief he might have heard from his father's tongue. It was as if everything he ever believed in was crumbling, everything he wanted in life was racing beyond his grasp.

"Loki," she begged, "what's wrong? What's happened?"

"I don't want to tell you," he whispered, still unable to meet her eyes. "You will despise me."

"Never," she hissed. "I would never. I could never." She started to come closer.

"No, don't," he barked, but this time she did not listen.

And so out of desperation, he bound her. Magical cords wrapped around her wrists and ankles, stopping her in her tracks.

"Loki!"

"Don't, Eris. I don't want to lose you, too."

"I swear, that will never happen. Tell me, Loki." There were tears in her eyes. "I love you. I would never leave you."

"You love me?" he echoed hoarsely. "I know why father favored Thor all this time. I know why I never measured up. After his victory in the Jotunheim, he stole an infant frost giant and made it his own. He thought to raise it as a son then use it as a political pawn. Not Odinson… I am Loki Laufeyson." He felt the tears gathering again, saw the realization on her face. "Do you love me now?" he screamed.

"Yes!" she cried. "I don't care who you are—Odinson, Laufeyson—so long as you are Loki!"

His magic binding her failed and she came racing toward him. He nearly staggered backward when she collided with him and threw her arms around him. Hot tears slipped down his cold cheeks and he laid his head in her hair, reached up to stroke it. He noticed how the red had become much darker than it was before.

"I was just a project…" he told her quietly, "and now that we're at war, I've lost my purpose."

"I do not think that is true." She looked up into his eyes. "The love is genuine. Thor's love, _my_ love. Even your mother and father; they knew what you were and embraced you when they could have easily ignored you."

"Why would they lie to me?" he mumbled numbly then hugged her tightly. "I must go to father. He's gone into the Odinsleep."

He tried to walk away but she reached out and clung to his sleeve.

"Please don't leave me," she whispered. "I'm afraid."

"Of what?' he asked, and then frowned. "Of me? Are you afraid of me, of what I'll do?"

"No," she assured him, tugging him closer. "I'm afraid I'll lose you. Please…"

He came to her and held her tightly. He buried his face in her hair and clutched fistfuls of the clothes on her back.

"I promise you," he began, "I won't let them take our dream away." He lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. "Even if it means causing more trouble, I won't let them take our life away. We will be married. And we will have a family. And I will love my sons!"

Eris pushed up on her toes and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed her back in desperation, and it flooded out of him and into her.

"Please don't let this destroy you," she whimpered.

"Do you trust me?"

"With all of my heart."

"Then believe in me."

"I believe in you."

He managed a small smile.

"Good…"

Loki kissed her again.

**VIII.**

He had been crowned king—something he hadn't been prepared for. But Loki was a master of maneuvering. He could utilize any situation, even as it changed so quickly. And he couldn't have asked for a better opportunity—to protect his dreams and to weed out the false friends who had always claimed to love him. Sif and the Warriors Three were the first to turn on him. Had they ever really been his friends or had they merely tolerated his presence for Thor's sake?

It all became clear. Thor had to remain banished. And he would have to prove to his father that he was just as capable as Thor. He had to prove to his father that he really was an Odinson, and that if given the throne, he would rule as a just Asgardian king.

And that meant that he had to end this war. No, more than end it… He had to dispatch of Laufey and all of the frost giants who dared threaten his realm—no, his entire existence.

His plans had left him a busy man. So many whispers to listen in on, deceptions to plan. And between that work, he had happened upon a desperate attempt by Thor's friends to end their heroic prince's banishment. They had cornered Eris and begged her to see reason, to convince Loki to bring Thor back and to step down to the rightful king.

No matter how they surrounded her, Eris stood bravely. She never flinched, never showed an ounce of fear at their bombardment. And she remained silent.

"Will you say nothing?" Sif cried.

And then suddenly the ground beneath Eris' feet turned black and the starry universe could be seen below her feet. The ground melted away in a circle, spreading out and causing the four friends to leap back in horror.

"You're just like him!" Volstagg exclaimed.

"Build your castles on sand, if it pleases you," Eris snapped, "and you can be king of a white beach for a day! Build it on rock, if you ever have the wit, but I build mine in shadow, and no matter how hard the eye spies, it will never be found or breached!" She clenched her jaw. "Or understood…"

"You're just as mad as Loki," Hogun hissed.

Her dark red hair—darker than before—danced around her shoulders as the black hole beneath her feet spread even wider, forcing the warriors further from her until they scattered and left her alone. Eris wrapped her arms around herself, and he admired her strength and devotion.

Loki came to her side, put his arm across her shoulders. She looked up at him with love in her eyes, but a hard determination for the coming storm; that silver gaze had paled.

"I am sorry," he murmured tenderly. "I never wanted this burden, or the trouble it would cause."

"Neither did I," she replied. "But where you go, my king, is where I follow."

**IX.**

Thor knew the look in his brother's eye the moment the thought registered in Loki's mind. He was going to let go.

"No!" he screamed, but it was already too late.

Loki let go, and he watched him fall into the great expanse and disappear in the bright universe. He wasn't sure how long he hung there, screaming after his brother, but when next he realized what was happening around him, he had been pulled up onto the remnants of the bifrost and was kneeling next to his father.

That's when he noticed Eris standing at the edge of the bridge, staring hollowly into the abyss. Her silver eyes were white with fear and sorrow. Her once vibrant, red hair was now as black as the expanse below her.

"Eris!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet. "I'm sorry! There was nothing I could do!"

"No?" she hollered back, never looking at him. Her voice was utterly void of emotion. "Maybe not. But there was plenty he could have done!" The anger that suddenly welled up inside of her was jarring. She glared at his father standing beside him. "You failed him his entire life! You failed to be honest with him, you failed to assure him when he discovered the truth, and you failed to save him now! You abandoned him every time he needed you! And who did you wake up for, Odin? Your son—the one and _only_ son!"

He watched her look back into the abyss and knew that she, too, would cast herself into the blackness. She had only ever loved his brother. She was fearless, except for this: his death.

"Eris, don't!" he cried, racing to her.

But it was a day for too late's. Before he could get close, she delicately stepped off of the bridge and fell into the universe.

If she could not live with Loki, she would not live at all.


	3. Loki's Pride

**X.**

Loki glared at the Other as the creature spoke, walking around him. So far, his 'meeting' had been nothing but frustration and wasted words.

"You will have your war, Asgardian," the Other hissed. "If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you. You think you know pain?" The creature reached for him. "He will make you long for something as sweet as pain."

The faint touch, no matter how brief, was excruciating, and as Loki came out of the vision, he hissed. All around him, his servants were preparing the Tesseract for his plans. His plans, his perfect plans, and soon he would rule this pathetic world. He would make it whole again. The people would be happy. He would be a just ruler.

Loki looked up and, in the distance among the crowd of workers, he saw a pale face surrounded by short, wild, jet black hair. Black eyes without pupils and white, moon-like irises stared at him from under a black and white jester's cap. It smiled at him with black lips. He frowned, tilted his head, and wondered what in the Nine Realms he was looking at.

A worker walked in front of him and the creature was gone.

**XI.**

"Afraid of a little lightning?" Captain America asked him.

"I'm not overly fond of what follows," Loki replied, knowing his 'brother' was on the other side of the storm.

Within moments, Thor was there, grabbing him up, dragging him out of the plane. They dropped to the earth, crashed into a cliff side. He groaned as he slid across the earth, Thor stomping after him with Mjolnir brandished and a growl on his face.

"Where is the Tesseract?" Thor boomed. Loki chuckled.

"I missed you, too," he mumbled as he sat up.

"Do I look to be in a gaming mood?"

"Oh, you should thank me," Loki growled and stood up. "With the Bifrost gone, how much dark energy did the Allfather have to muster to conjure you here? Your precious Earth."

Thor reached out and grabbed him by the neck, but it was not to harm it. It was more of a brotherly embrace.

"I thought you dead!"

Loki glared at him. "Did you mourn?" he wondered. Thor's eyebrows dipped painfully, as though he were trying desperately to reach him.

"We all did. Our father—"

"_Your_ father!" Loki hissed and jerked out of Thor's grasp, walking away from him. "He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?"

Thor followed.

"We were raised together, we played together," his brother pleaded for understanding, "we fought together. Do you remember none of that?"

"I remember a shadow! Living in the shade of your 'greatness'. I remember you tossing me into an abyss—I, who was and should be king!"

"So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No, the Earth is under my protection, Loki!"

Imagined slights? How dare he! If Thor wanted to appeal to his brotherly bond, he was failing by refusing to acknowledge the wrong he had done! So Thor returned from Earth a changed man, and yet it did not go as deep as recognizing the problems that started at home.

Loki burned with rage, but it was laughter that escaped his lips.

"And you're doing a marvelous job with that," he told his 'brother'. "The humans slaughter each other in droves while you ideally threat. I mean to rule them. And why should I not?"

"You think yourself above them."

"Well, yes."

"Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother," Thor said. "Throne would suit you ill."

Loki scoffed and paced back up the incline of the cliff. "I've seen worlds you've never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile! I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it…"

"Who showed you this power?" Thor asked, following him again. "Who controls the would-be-king?"

Loki spun around. "I am a king!"

"Not here!" Thor boomed. "You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!" He reached out again and his angry face softened. "You come home…"

For a moment, Loki looked upon his brother and felt the familiar pang of familial love in his eyes. The memories of Asgard and his life stretched beyond the ill-remembered, the darkness, the loneliness. Laughter echoed in the back of his mind. A girl with red hair and silver eyes. He felt a prick in his heart as he recalled her face.

Eris, the flower girl.

He had loved her once. He remembered now. How could he have forgotten? _You come home!_ Thor's words reverberated between his ears. Come home, to Asgard, to his bride.

"How is… how is Eris?" Loki asked tentatively, afraid to hear the answer. Did she hate him now? Was she bitter of his abandonment of her? Was she in mourning? Worse, had she moved on?

Thor's face contorted into a pained expression and a sickening feeling settled in Loki's gut.

"Eris, she… When you fell, she…"

"Tell me."

"She jumped after you." Thor shook his head. "She did not want to live without you, and so she cast herself into the sea of space."

Loki felt as though his brother had taken Mjolnir and smashed him in the face. He was stunned and pain wracked him internally all over. Eris was dead? She had killed herself upon witnessing his fall? No. Thor had cast him into the abyss! And by consequence, he had also killed Eris! His bride!

Loki's heart hardened and he smiled thinly at his brother.

"I don't have it," he told him. "The Tesseract."

"Loki, about Eris—"

"You need the cube to bring me home," he interrupted him, unable to discuss her for the pain in his chest, "but I've sent it off and I know not where."

Thor glared at him. "You listen well, brother. I—"

And then a force swooped out of the sky and tackled Thor, knocking him off the mountain. Loki tilted his head to the side.

"I'm listening," he said to the emptiness.

The petty battle below was amusing only to watch his enemies smack each other around. He sat down and pretended to watch, but took the distraction as a moment to gather his thoughts. Now that his memories had been unlocked, all he could think about was what he had left behind. He cared for none of it, longed for nothing but… her. His ambitions would not change, but if he could alter anything, he would have spared her… He would have brought her to Earth to be his queen, and together they would have ruled.

And he would be loved. He remembered her love, the warmth and gentleness. He yearned to feel it again.

Eris dead?

He couldn't wrap his mind around it. His thought-train just kept looping full circle. And the more he thought of it, the more ill with heartache he became.

**XII.**

Loki paced the cell he had been placed in, patiently waiting for his plan to unfold. Barton would come, and they would scatter the Avengers and their pathetic forces. As he walked, he idly glanced around, and that's when he noticed the creature again—the monochrome devil that haunted his steps. It had appeared before him many times—the tunnels, Germany, during Thor and Iron Man's battle, being brought into SHIELD's headquarters. And now, again. Smiling. Always smiling.

This time, when he blinked, the creature did not vanish. Did it belong to the Avengers? He did not think so. They had never acknowledged it. And how had it slipped past every security he had encountered or supported without being noticed by anyone? He seemed to be the only one that could see it.

He sat down.

What was it? He could not even tell if it was male or female. It appeared human, or human-like, but there was something eerie and cold about it. Something unnatural. Something… otherworldly. But in all the realms and beyond, he had never seen anything like it.

"You're following me. Why?" he asked.

The Jester moved up to the glass and passed right through it. So, he understood, the creature was magical. Just like he was.

"The force sent forth must return to the source. A bird to the nest. The soldier called back to command. The prodigal son to his father. Anything sent out must come back again. And so I have. To you. My master."

"Master?" he echoed.

"I have been waiting for you for so long." The Jester's grin became wider. "In my boredom, I troubled the toys, and there were a few ticks, but I enjoyed spreading the turmoil. Everything is a chess match, and you are my king, so I positioned the pawns while you were away planning wars and preparing strategy. The field is yours to command, as is this piece, and I will protect you, my king."

Loki stood and walked closer to the creature.

"You've been preparing the Earth for my arrival," he said, trying to understand the coded speech. "And how would you know of my plans?"

"Because I am like you." The Jester giggled. "And my capacity is your will."

"What are you?"

The creature tilted its head and stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to understand the question. Finally, it spoke.

"I am the Jester," it said. "And now I go, to meddle more monsters into the trap. Might with your blessing, I will rally the rivals into the ruse."

"Do nothing that will interrupt my plans," he hissed, sliding one foot forward as he leaned closer to the Jester. "I have not come all this way to have a self-proclaimed ally interfere. I do not know you."

The Jester bowed its head.

"My capacity is your will," it repeated, and then vanished.

**XIII.**

The Asgard prison he was brought to was a magical cage. His hands remained bound, his mouth gagged, and all who might have looked upon him were skirted out of his path. He was taken through empty tunnels and paths so that no Asgardian had the slightest opportunity to see him and judge him. Only the people who once claimed to be his parents had laid eyes on him—only them aside from the guards who posted watch and the brother who had brought him in.

He was imprisoned for many cycles, and no sentencing had come. No sentencing meant no execution, but it left him lost in the void of an unknown fate. And then, as if summoned, the Jester appeared to him again.

The creature passed through the magical barrier as though it were not even there and came to stand before him. They stared at one another for a long while before the Jester reached up and took hold of the mask on his face, unlatching it and pulling it away. He took a deep breath and worked the stiffness out of his jaw. It was good to be free of the thing.

"That they have clapped you in cuffs curdles me to the core," the Jester said. "I cringe at the abuse."

"Why have you come?"

"To release you, my king."

"Oh?" He raised his brows. "And if you served me so, where were you among the chitauri? I did not see you on the battlefield—not when the Avengers burned my army, closed the portal, or came at me. You were nowhere to be seen, not for all your talk."

"The fools were not properly foxed, so they trumped your triumph. I mourned in the darkness, madness mocked to take me, but your command was my control. I can do nothing if you do not let me off my chain. My capacity—"

"—is my will, I know." He narrowed his gaze on the creature, hardly believing in it; perhaps, in some small way, he had gone mad. "Then I will unchain you. It is my will to leave this place."

The creature smiled and touched the cuff on his wrists. To his amazement, it snapped open and clattered to the floor, and the bind keeping his magic at bay was released. He felt his power rushing back through him, spreading throughout his body. But he knew he would not be able to use it, not right away; it would take time to recover from the repress.

When he met the Jester's eyes, he saw a dark and sinister anticipation in the moon-like orbs.

"I will lead you far from here, and all the scags that stand in our way, can die, die, die, _die_, and no one will laugh save you and I."

Loki was hit by an invisible blow, stunned by the memory that suddenly thundered through him. He remembered his bride's words, that tricks were trouble and only the trickster ever laughed. He had promised her he would never use his trickery on her, and that the jests would be theirs to share. Only they would ever laugh at the fooling of the others.

"Eris?" he whispered.

And the Jester's sly grin was like ice in his veins.

The creature bounded off, hopping and dancing. Every bell on her body was silenced as if by a thought. The magical barrier dissipated when she passed through it and he was free. She did not stop there, however. She leapt into a shadow and disappeared as two guards rushed in.

They lifted their weapons, angling them at him, and he wondered what kind of escape she had planned to release him and then leave him to defend against the Asgardians on his own. Then suddenly she appeared, dropping out of the air above one of the guards. She drew a blade across his throat then bounded off of an invisible wall, spinning merrily as she sailed to the other man, and then she ripped open his throat as well.

The Jester jumped back into the shadows and disappeared again. When he saw her next, she was far up ahead, springing to the next scrimmage and cackling in glee. Loki followed her in strange awe and awkward horror. The Jester was a being of pure magic, bending and breaking the laws of the fabric as though it were as easy as breathing. He could not have created a better servant if he had planned it. He couldn't be more proud of this creature.

But it was Eris. His beloved, his bride, his flower girl… She had been twisted by his magic, warped by his death. When she fell, what had she fallen into, fallen through to bend her so strangely? Would that he could have done this to someone else, anyone but her. Why had she been the sacrifice to create his perfect servant?

Loki followed the Jester through the castle, watched the parlor tricks that only he could track. He watched her move as he did, vanishing and reappearing, and she acted with such a practiced skill. Dozens of men came at her at once, but they could never catch her, never trace her. She moved like smoke, bent the world to her will, and flashed before them long enough to end their life.

Once their enemies had been removed, they followed their path and left the castle, racing far out into the night, and disappeared into the darkness.

**XIV.**

The safehouse was a remote villa nestled in the mountains far to the south in the Asgard Mountains. Torches lit the yellow walls in such a dim glow, the stones looked a soft orange and the low, curving ceilings were dark. The Jester stood stark still, and her pale skin was so void of life that even the torchlight could not bring any warmth or humanity to her countenance.

"I thought you were dead," he said softly.

"I was. Weren't you?" She tilted her head to the side.

"Not dead." He shook his head. "Something more, changed, powerful." Loki swallowed and moved closer. "You died? How did you return?"

The Jester smiled. "I changed," she whispered, "and became something more. Something powerful. So that I could serve you."

"And what happened to Eris? Why did you become… like this?"

The Jester laughed.

"The Red One required taming…" She began walking a circle around him. "I was shown a chess match, and you were my king, and I was but a pawn. And the wicked forces came at you, and I scratched and clawed and chewed my way through them until I became worthy of higher rank in your army.

"I played again, and again, and again, and then I knew the board, and I knew the enemy, and I understood every play. And I bent the rules, and changed the game. I added squares, levels, twists, turns, tunnels, and tricks!" The Jester stopped before him, barely an inch from his face. "And now you have a queen worthy of protecting you. Rule us, my king, and know that there is no direction I cannot move to serve you, to do your bidding."

"Right now, I want only one thing," he murmured, "and that is to see my bride."

The Jester nodded, smiled, and bounced away until she leapt so high into the air, it looked as though she might dash herself on the stone floor. But instead, she passed right through it and was gone. Loki squinted at the place she had been, wondering what game she was playing.

And then there were hands wrapping around him from behind, gliding up his chest. He felt the excited twist in his stomach that he hadn't felt in so long. He turned around, thrilled to see her, live in the flesh, to hold her and touch her and remember the good times.

But when he looked upon her, he was surprised to see a copy of the Jester, only this time with long, white hair and curves that were decidedly feminine. He frowned, confused.

"You are not Eris…"

"I am the part of the triumvirate that is to be your bride. An ounce of amusement, spare of something sinister, with a merry innocence to soothe the stress and suffering."

Aggravated, Loki reached up and grabbed the Jester's jaw with an iron-like grip. He bent into her face, glaring icily.

"I have had enough of these games. Summon Eris or leave me."

The Jester only smiled and slipped out of his grasp. She walked behind him and, when her hand left his back, she disappeared. Loki glanced in the direction, but there was nothing. When he looked up again, the red-haired, silver-eyed, fair-skinned woman he had once adored stood before him.

But she was different this time. Her hair was streaked with black, her silver eyes were without pupil, and something dark and dangerous passed over her countenance. She did not look upon him like the woman who loved him, worshipped him as a god. She was wild, chaotic, unchained. There was discord in the fiber of her being.

"Eris," he whispered, but she did not bow or bend to him. She only stared, like an energy waiting to be released, a dog anticipating the attack.

He walked over to her and placed his palm to her cheek. Her skin was smoky, ethereal with power barely contained. He felt the broken harmony in the fabric of her make-up. And suddenly he understood: the Jester's two faces were the aspects of Eris tempered by control—his bride and a servant he could be proud of. Eris, the woman, had become pure chaos. He could sense the desire for destruction and madness in her, he could almost taste it.

Loki was so filled with grief, he was driven to anger. He thrust his hand forward and magically gripped her essence, drawing the energy out of her. The jingling of bells and whining cackles of the Jester were warped sounds as they were pulled out of the woman, _his_ woman. And once he had sucked them out, he siphoned his servants from the chaos that had become Eris; he freed the Jester and he hardened the chaos, trapped it, and a red gem was all that was left in his palm.

He went to the still form of his bride, slumped onto the cold stone, and he cradled her in his arms. Her red hair glistened in the torchlight, but her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow.

"Leave me," he hissed at the Jester looming silently nearby. And the Jester obeyed, and he was left alone. "Eris," he whispered.

But she did not wake up.


	4. Loki's Lament

**XV.**

In a deep and most secret chamber within the villa, Loki laid Eris on a bed made of black stone with thick cushions of red and gold. Her fair skin was pale and smooth, like porcelain, and her silver eyes were closed. Her vibrant, red hair flowed around her sleeping form, and he cast calla lilies around her body to comfort her unconscious mind.

He stretched out his hands and spent his restored magic to cast a silver barrier over her. It was his version of the Odinsleep, though it would not revitalize her, merely sustain her until he could learn the secrets of restoration or… perhaps… utilize the Odinsleep himself.

That would be his ambition, he decided. That would be his goal. World domination could wait until he found the power to save her. No matter what he had to do, no matter how sinister and wicked he had to become… he would do it. For her.

Loki gently kissed her lips, and then he climbed into bed with her, careful not to tug her hair or disturb her body. Then he opened up a book and, for the first time in their lives, he was the one who read to her.

As he read to her while she slept, one of his sweetest memories stuck out in his mind and he had to pause. It was the memory of one of their last nights together, before everything had spiraled out of control.

_Loki stirred when the wind blew the drapes gently across the floor, letting the moonlight into the room. He watched the streams of cloth gently dance with the never-ending breeze across the marble, and the sheer drapes softly caressed his arm as they reached for the bed._

_Eris was asleep beside him, her head on his back between his shoulder blades and her arm draped over his side. He slowly turned so he could admire her, but after a moment, her silver eyes opened._

"_Did I wake you?" he whispered, gently brushing her cheek._

"_No," she replied. "I had a dream."_

"_A good dream?"_

"_No…" Her fingers suddenly curled against his skin and there was tension in her furrowed brow. "It was not a good dream…"_

"_Tell me," he urged, lifting her chin toward his face._

"_I saw you in the garden, and there was a swathe of silk covering your head. The white veil was lifted, but, in place of it, a black one fell to cover you. You fell, and I lost you. And in losing you, I lost myself. There was darkness, chaos, and it was cold." She tensed and huddled closer to him. "So cold," she whispered. He tightened his arm around her. "I searched for you, stumbled in the dark, and when I found you… you were wrapped in chains." Her voice cracked in sorrow._

"_Eris," he gently interrupted her, "it was just a dream…"_

"_Still. I don't know what I would do if I lost you. I was frightened of what was happening to me, but I was more frightened of what had happened to you."_

"_You won't lose me." He smiled._

"_If it came down to it, to me or you, I would gladly give my life for you—"_

"_Eris, you shouldn't talk like that." He could tell she was upset, but he chuckled, touched by the eagerness and dedication suddenly flooding out of her in the aftermath of a nightmare. "It was just a dream."_

"_I understand… but I cannot shake this awful feeling in my heart."_

"_You know I would never let that happen. I am Loki Odinson of Asgard, and I would never let you die for me. My power will save us both."_

_She nodded and tried to smile, but he could tell she was still shaken._

"_Are you not comforted by this?"_

"_I am," she replied, "but the feeling remains…"_

_He scooped her closer and gently pushed the strap of her thin, silk gown down over her shoulder._

"_Then I will remove it with force," he murmured against her lips, and she kissed him fervently._

_They made love long into the night and he felt an intensity in her that he had never felt before. There was devotion, desperation, and a deep, deep love that burned hotly inside their bodies, insatiable. He had given her more of himself in that one moment than he ever had before, and he received more of her than she had ever given._

"_I love you," she moaned into the darkness._

_One moment, the curtains covered the moon and she was a mere silhouette above him. Then the breeze took the drapes away and let the light in, and she was a pale goddess cast in a crystalline glow making love to him._

"_I love you," he growled back, predatory._

_In one sweep of those drapes, he saw his arms holding her, and they were the arms of a man, clutching her hips, needing her. In the next moment, all was dark, and he was a living shadow, claiming her, enveloping her._

_When the sun came up and they were spent, gasping against each other and tangled in the sheets, he knew something had changed. Their bond had strengthened, deepened. And with the passing of the night, so did the illness of a nightmare. She smiled brightly up at him from where her head lay on his chest. He smiled back and listened to the sound of their breathing, counted the pulses of their heartbeats. There was a brief moment when he thought he felt a third heartbeat, but her stirring stole his concentration._

_She got up and walked to the balcony, wearing nothing but her beauty. He followed and together they watched the sun rise over the hills. He put his arm around her, nuzzled his nose in her hair, and could believe nothing else but that their future was a bright one._

Loki reached out and hovered his hand over her stomach, closed his eyes, sought deep inside her. And he found it. The third heartbeat. He had left her with child, and unknowingly… she had plunged after him. Just as she said she would do if she lost him.

"Eris," he said quietly, and his voice sounded strained. "I will not let you die, not you or our child. But right now, my power is not enough. Wait just a little longer, Eris, and I will give us what we dreamed of…" He leaned closer to her. "I will have to do things that you will not approve of, play some tricks that will not make you laugh… But it must be done, because all of my good magic I've saved for you…"

Loki then opened the book again and continued to read.


End file.
